


Tired

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Dark Chocolate [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Cutting and suicidal thoughts at large, Depression, Mental Health Issues, Reader-Insert, angst with comfort, but not a happy end, non-gender specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:16:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: Some days everything is just wrong





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

> Another warning: depression and suicide is no joke (1-800-273-8255--thats the number if anyone ever needs it) but it also isn't cured from a few cuddles or a friendly ear. It isn't always triggered by some large episode. For some people its as simple as feeling as if they've done enough, for others its as if you can't be happy even when you *know* you should be. The chemicals that make with that happy just aren't there. I wrote this from personally when I was having a rough few weeks and is based off how my friend handles it, I found it as I'm going through my works and finishing things up, so enjoy :)

The porch light was on, which meant one of the brothers was home. The thought was enough to make your stomach clench, wondering not for the first time if you should rent a room for night. Realistically you couldn’t afford it but you couldn’t deal with either of them right now. Had no desire to pretend when you’d done it all day at work and only driving away stagnant thoughts by keeping yourself constantly busy. By the time the day was over your bones ached but home was not a relief. It was just...

A whole new play.

Thats all it would be, another way to pretend, instead of the well put together worker, you’d be the easy-going nag. Keeping the house up, keeping the brothers busy, reading your books when you really just wanted a nap that you wouldn’t wake up from. 

But enough of that. Things to do, you thought viciously as you turned off the engine. There was no time for sulking over nothing in the car. The thoughts weren’t enough to stop you from stomping your way up the steps to you bedroom nor did they stop the scowl on your face when you found Papyrus draped on your bed as if he owned it.

His foot tapped and his words were sharp but it wasn’t the tone that was shocking, it was the simple command, “STRIP.”

“Ex-excuse you!” You snapped after a moment of tense disbelief, dropping your purse and keys then taking off only your jacket with a glare, “Get out, Paps, I’m tired.”

You pointed to the door your own foot tapping as he stood up then, instead of leaving, shut the door and turned to you. A protest start but died when he stalked toward you like a cheetah with it's prey in sight. Sometimes you forgot how strong they were but you were reminded when he scooped you up, slung you over his should like a sack of potatoes then strut to the bathroom.

“What the fuck?! Put me down you—“

“BE QUIET, HUMAN.” Maybe it was the flatness in his tone but more likely it was the sharp pinch he gave you to your leg. A pinch with unerring accuracy to hit your most recent of cuts, sharp warmth welling under your pants almost instantly as the cut re-opened. It was also probably the strong smell of lavender in the bathroom, the steam from the filled tub, and the garden chair placed by the tub. “NOW STRIP AND GET IN. I WILL GET THE TEA. DO. NOT. LEAVE.”

The tall skeleton stomped out in a flurry of red spikes that seemed to take all the exhausting rage with it. It left that same tiredness that you couldn’t shake, you blame that for why you didn’t protest and slunk out of your clothes. Sliding into the tub the water was a tad too hot but the burn feels wonderful against your skin. It woke the fresh stings on your legs, turning the water a faint pink under the fading bubbles, waking you more than anything else the past week. Your eyes slipped shut, head slipping under until there was nothing but warmth, floating and silence. You could feel the water fill your nose and ears, contemplated swallowing it but knowing it took more than that to drown yourself. Yet you held yourself under until the vibration of words echoed in your ears and as tempted as you were to ignore them, a small thankful stab of guilt pulled you up. Blinking the foam from your eyes you watched as Papyrus continued to read, the words fluttering senselessly around you when you flopped back onto the neck rest. It took several repetitions for his question to break through the haze your mind was in, startling you but not enough to make you try to cover the damage, “ARE THOSE NEW?”

“…yeah.”

“THEY LOOK INFECTED. I WILL TREAT THEM WHEN WE ARE DONE.” He always made it sound so simple, and even before he finished speaking his eyes drifted back to the page. Eye lights falling over the words as he spit them out gruffly and monotonously. It suddenly irked you, what irked you even more was that you could not summon the proper ire, words coming out more mellow than intended. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of doing this?”

“I’M NOT SURE WHAT YOU ARE REFERRING DO, HUMAN.”

“This!” You slap the water for emphasis, “Taking care of me! I’m tired of myself already, it isn’t—“

“I AM NOT TIRED. THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS DOES NOTHING HE DOES NOT WANT TO.”

“Obligation is funny like that.”

“IT IS STILL MY DECISION, I DO ONLY WHAT I WANT AND NOTHING MORE.” With that he snapped the book shut and reached towards you like an ominous halloween decoration, you wished you could laugh at the thought. There was no fight when he picked you up, lifting you out of the tub, into a towel robe before finally carrying you to the bed then laying you on top of it. The feeling of being clean was something even if you wished you never had to leave the tub again. “HUMAN, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOU. BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO FALL DOWN YET. I WILL MAKE YOU WANT TO STAY STANDING.”

“…its not that simple Paps.”

“PERHAPS NOT…BUT I WILL BE HERE SHOULD YOU WISH IT.”

“I don’t.”

“HM.” He made a noise that was neither agreement or dismissal, watching you quietly before nodding. You wonder if he knew you meant you didn’t want him to see you like this but knowing the skeleton he didn’t care what you meant. He was right about one thing, he only did what he wanted and why he bothered to take care of you, you couldn’t understand but later you would be grateful. Maybe not right now as he was pulling up the robe to treat your cuts, but later. The skeleton had been right about the infection, the disinfectant burning more than it should but the sting was almost pleasant, a guilty thought that you could not dredge up real guilt for. There was no fight left in you for any of it. Pretending. Fighting. It was more draining now to let the act fall than it had been before the bath. It made you feel more tired than before as the tears slipped free while Papyrus sank into the bed beside you quietly, continuing reading where he left off.


End file.
